


Desire for Need

by Cherazz



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Episode Related, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Rutting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherazz/pseuds/Cherazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being drugged by Irene Adler, Sherlock’s in no mood for sleeping and just wants to have a good wank, with or without John’s help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire for Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://mmom.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mmom.livejournal.com/)**mmom** 2014\. Pretty excited that this is my first Sherlock fic! Sadly, I do not own Sherlock, otherwise things would’ve happened as such and then some. An alternate scene during “A Scandal in Belgravia.”

“No…no…no! Ahhh, back to bed!” John exclaims while forcefully dragging his dear friend Sherlock back to where he had been resting prior to his collapse on the floor.

John reaches down to pull up the sheets and gives him a quick pat on the bum, “Ah, you’ll be fine in the morning and just sleep.” He mumbles while blushing. He has just realized where he had touched him. He needn’t be taking advantage of his companion whilst in his drug-induced state. That’d be ten levels beyond wrong.

“Of course I’ll be fine. I am fine. I’m absolutely fine!” The word 'of' dragged out; rolling off his tongue as if there were no problem at all. _Denial much?_ John thought while rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you’re great. Now, I’ll be next door if you need me,” he said. Better to agree with Sherlock and avoid conflict altogether.

“Why would I need you?” His voice sounds so small being buried under the covers. _And a tad bit defensive?_

John sighs, “No reason at all.” _Why on earth would you need me? It’s not as if you notice my lingering stares nor do you comment on my suggestive remarks about us.”_ He shakes his head sadly before closing the door behind him.

For the next few minutes, all John does is pace back and forth. He hates "the Woman" and detests that she got under Sherlock's skin like that. In fact, he has never seen his friend react in such a way. _The nerve of her being completely in the nude like that! Who does she think she is?_

The doctor gasps. He’s taken aback. It hits him square in the chest. He had absolutely no desire for that woman, despite her displaying everything for him to see, which was quite nice, mind you. John finds he’s more bothered by how Sherlock reacted then anything else. He had been more concerned about what it would mean for their relationship and if this would be the end of their run together. _Am I jealous?_

"Noo...am I...just a...oh bloody hell," he groans aloud. His knees buckle and he collapses onto the sofa. John feels a massive headache come on, causing him to massage his temples in an effort to alleviate some of the pain.

"So that's it then! There's no sense in denying it now," he says, as he runs his hands through his short blond hair before turning onto his stomach.

What comes next was muffled by the cushions, but it was clear enough for John to accept it, "I damn well have feelings for Sherlock Holmes..."

Now John's generally not one to repeat himself in such a short span of time, but he feels as if it were appropriate for the moment, "Bloody hell!"

A strangled moan breaks through his ramblings and John's head perks right up. Was he hearing things? Sherlock should be out cold. _Oh no, did he hear me?_ "Sherlock? Was that you? Is everything all right in there?" John gets concerned when he receives nothing but silence in reply.

"Johnn..." his flatmate yells before a loud thud follows. His voice sounds troubled and he clearly seems to have fallen out of bed again. John is up and off the couch in seconds, bounding through the door in record time.

"Sherlock! Sherlock...what's wrong? What happened?" He asks, worry clouding his vocals as he scurries to help the detective up once again.

This time, however, John hesitates before grabbing hold of him and hoisting him up. His cheeks are stained crimson. He hopes Sherlock wouldn't notice. Everything feels different now that he’s come to such a startling realization...it’s as if he’s tiptoeing on eggshells. Nevertheless, he takes a deep breath and instead of forcefully (like last time) putting him back to bed, he does so gently; lowering the brunette's tall, lean form onto the mattress below.

Feeling deja vu, John takes a hold of the sheets and moves to tuck his friend in once more. This time, though, his hand was stopped from pulling away after the act. His brows shoot high in confusion. "Sherlock? Was there something more you needed?" His bewilderment shows in his voice as he looks down at him. _Just what is he up to?_

Sherlock's eyes are glazed and his pupils are dilated. His grip tightens on John's wrist before pulling him down onto to his prone form. John feels the air punch out of his lungs due to the force at which Sherlock grabs him and how heavily he falls on top of him. The action does nothing to deter his flatmate, however, as he continues to peer deeply into John’s soul. It makes the doctor squirm from the fierceness of his gaze. _What the bloody hell did that woman drug him with?_ Squirming wasn’t a very smart idea, however, as Sherlock let out the most guttural of moans and bucks his hips up into John’s.

The response is instantaneous for both men. Sherlock has an erection, that much is obvious, seeing as he was now feverishly trying to rut against him. John, however, is feeling confused and slightly turned on. He could not ignore the shiver that runs through him at the sound of the detective’s moan.

He also could not and would not take advantage of his friend; that much is certain for Doctor Watson. Sherlock isn’t himself right now. John takes one look down at him and he appears as if he’s in a waking dream, not fully conscious, but his body is very much alert and participating; it knows what it wants and doesn’t seem to want to stop until that happens.

John groans, he knows he’s getting more and more aroused by the second. Each time their cocks collide, he falls deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. His resolve is caving in on itself. He needs to get through to Sherlock before they do something they’ll regret.

“Sherlock! Sherlock, come on now, snap out of it!” John exclaims while gripping Sherlock’s shoulders and putting all of his weight into preventing more thrusts (although it’s rather difficult). He tries to maintain eye contact, but his friend’s eyes are too unfocused; continually rolling back into his head from the sensations assaulting his body.

He’s stronger than he appears and the detective’s hips connect with his once more, bucking John off despite their physical differences. And despite his firm stance on not being gay, he finds himself craving the feeling of Sherlock’s firm cock rubbing against him and longing to get his hands on him.

It surprises John and he can’t help but groan - rather loudly at that. He’s positive Mrs. Hudson will have something to say about this come morning.

_I hate myself for enjoying this and my God do I want to see him naked._ He thinks back to every moment in which Sherlock hardly has anything on. The sheet at Buckingham Palace stands out most of all. _He has such a fantastic bum._

John’s beginning to feel lightheaded and is about to question why - he’s not the one on drugs after all. He facepalms when he notices he’s hard now too. _Thank goodness I didn’t say anything out loud. I am a doctor. I know these things._

Apparently Sherlock wants to see himself naked as well, because when John is pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, the detective decides to rid himself of his trousers and tug down his pants. The doctor chokes and almost falls backward in shock. He tells himself he must be imagining things, especially when he hears Sherlock chuckle in response.

“Sherlock! Christ, what the bloody hell are you doing? Put your damn pants back on! You’re not yourself right now!” John jumps back and croaks out, all while trying and failing to cover his eyes. He will not deny that his mouth is watering nor will he deny that his hands are itching to reach out and grip that delicious cock.

Sherlock’s not fond of John’s suggestion and merely rolls his eyes at him. His hands begin inching between his thighs. “You seemed to enjoy yourself just fine a moment ago John, you’re not fooling anyone. If you want to continue with being a complete moron and deny what’s going on here, I suggest you leave now. Otherwise, you can stay and watch, or join in for all I care. Either way, I’ve got an erection and I want it dealt with it as soon as possible! Damn it John, I can’t think like this!” Sherlock exclaims while gesturing down towards his arousal with a hooded gaze. His voice is laced with desire and his skin is beaded with a fine sheen of sweat.

John’s jaw drops at Sherlock’s proposition and he can’t help but remain frozen in place. To Sherlock, he must appear to be a gaping fish right about now. He must blink about fifty times, trying to digest what he just heard, as he feels his heart start to pound wildly in his chest. John gasps when another wave of lightheadedness hits him. He is so turned on right now and yet he is unable to move when Sherlock groans at him, clearly having given up on him participating in this lascivious act.

Sherlock’s hands both take ahold of his heated flesh and he lets out a sigh of relief as his fingers dance across the length of his shaft. He pauses briefly to gently roll down the foreskin and reveal his shining pink cockhead, pre-cum forming from the slit already. He rubs his hands over the tip, eyes rolling back in pleasure, gathering some of it to use as lubrication.

His cock is tall and lanky, similar in shape to Sherlock himself. John finds it ironic, before his mind blanks out completely. It’s Sherlock’s moans that reduce his brain function to nothingness. That, and well, who would’ve thought he’d ever be witnessing Sherlock Holmes masturbating, let alone in front of him?

Despite his head being tilted back, John can see the clenching of his jaw. He can see the drops of sweat running from his hairline down to his chest. The doctor wants to follow that trail with his tongue and taste him. He also wants to run his hands through every inch of Sherlock’s perfect curls.

Perspiration that isn’t stopped by Sherlock’s belly button continues traveling south toward his hard cock, mingling together with the pre-cum. John is mesmerized watching his friend pump his dick up and down, alternating his pace between slow and languid, with fast and punishing. The detective’s hands slide smoothly over his slick skin. He’s clearly no stranger to this. John has to wonder how often Sherlock does this. Up until now, he never considered the man a sexual being at all!

Sherlock’s body suddenly convulses, causing his slick curls to bounce forward, and his mouth falls open on a loud groan. He starts panting, as he runs his thumb nail over the slit of his cock with his right hand and his left hand rolls his balls back and forth. His hips continuously thrust upward into his tight fist, begging for friction; for that sweet release. Every muscle in his body is taut. It can’t be long now.

Pain certainly seems to be a trigger for Sherlock and John isn’t surprised in the least. John can see the whiteness in his knuckles from the level of pressure of his grasp. There’s a constant clenching of his fist.

His body jerks again, this time because his left index finger has forced itself inside of his ass. One, two, three thrusts before its joined by a second and third. John nearly comes on the spot watching his friend ride his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Sherlock’s head snaps forward and his lust-blown sea-green eyes lock onto him. John shudders. It’s almost as if he’s daring him to act; to help finish him off. Poor helpless John can only watch, however, as Sherlock brings his right hand up closer to the head of his cock and he runs his nails over the frenulum.

The dam shatters and Sherlock is coming. He howls and his entire body spasms as wave after wave of pleasure assaults his over stimulated body. John watches as his toes curl, his fingers clench, and the tendons in his neck go rigid. He moans and moans until he’s rendered breathless, struggling to take in valuable oxygen. The baritone in his voice made John want to melt into a puddle of goo all over Sherlock’s bedding. It’s a sight that John paints to memory and wants to make certain happens again real soon.

Finally sated, Sherlock’s body slumps down onto the damp comforter, completely exhausted and absolutely blissed out. In fact, John’s pretty positive his friend just passed out. He smiles, despite the fact that he still has a raging boner, and reaches down to pull off the rest of Sherlock’s clothing and tuck him in.

John stands up, intending to leave quickly so that he may take care of his own problem, and is stopped at the door by Sherlock calling out his name. There’s a pause. John’s not certain what state his friend is in and if the drugs are still in his system or even if he’ll remember this in the morning. He waits with baited breath all while pressing the palm of his hand into his pulsing erection.

“John, next time this happens, which it will, don’t be such an idiot. Do you honestly think I would’ve done such a thing in front of you if I didn’t know exactly how you feel about me? Do you really think I care about _the Woman_ when I have you? Who do you think I was imagining while I was fucking my own fist?” Sherlock said huskily before rolling over onto his side, still very much awake despite his prone form.

With Sherlock’s admission, John only manages to choke out a stunned gasp before he’s coming, untouched, inside of his pants and trousers. His hand grips the door frame with such force, he hears the wood splinter. His knees buckle and he falls to the floor - he’s certain there’ll be bruises in the morning. Ragged breathing fills the air and all he can hear is his heart hammering in his chest.

Sherlock smirks and simply says, “Glad you enjoyed yourself John. Now do turn off the light and shut the door on your way out. We can discuss this new development in the morning.” Sherlock hears John mumble something unintelligible before the room is enveloped in darkness.

For the first time since losing Redbeard, Sherlock falls asleep with a smile on his face. Perhaps sentiment wasn’t a chemical defect after all.


End file.
